


wait for dawn to fade

by januarys



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 00:32:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/januarys/pseuds/januarys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ME3. Kaidan takes a step back to grasp at his current reality. Shepard fills the empty space before him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wait for dawn to fade

**Author's Note:**

> In which I am trying to sleep at 1:30 in the morning and these two knuckleheads would not _shut up_. Not that I'm complaining though. Just something a little thoughtful and fluffy for your weekend. Maybe too fluffy. Hmm.

Kaidan defines time differently to everyone else.

For others, there is _before the reapers_ , when rose-coloured glasses were the norm and people were blissfully ignorant of the horrors lurking amongst the stars. Then there is _after the reapers_ , when fear became the air that people swallowed and home is nothing more than a fleeting memory to many, to all.

Kaidan however sees his reality as something simpler.

There is _before john_ , when his biggest worry was fixing his terminal in the mess as his XO hauled ass on his nightly steps through the Normandy and when Virmire was a dot in the rear view mirror but a void in his chest. Then there is _after shepard_ , when it took three years as well as a goddamn war to figure out that the very XO who took pity on his flickering terminal all those years ago is the only one for him  and jumbled words on a balcony overlooking the Presidium confirmed that he felt the same way.

Time is fickle. It’s like sand running through his fingers. An endless amount can be held in his palms but it slips away just as easily, becoming dust in the wind.

It’s a strange analogy. John _did_ tell him all those years ago, in front of his flickering terminal, that he _is_ a romantic. Kaidan can’t help it, it’s what shapes that small part of him that isn’t reaving husks or blasting a marauder through its skull with his pistol. It’s his own private sanity check, a small pocket of normal within the crazy.

Sometimes Kaidan thinks he is going crazy though. Or maybe it’s just John messing with his head. Again.

That’s what John does though. He simply _is_. Kaidan tried to decipher him once, as though he was another algorithm to solve before hitting FTL. He couldn’t however. He couldn’t crack the code that was John Shepard. He’s not a mathematical puzzle to be solved, nor a dusty book of poetry to interpret into plain English.

He’s just _John._

It’s hard to explain, at least in simple terms. Kaidan can put it down as something like this: Shepard walks into the room and suddenly all eyes are on him, all ears waiting on the next words to pass from his lips. Shepard barks an order on the field and that order is the first in a domino effect of actions to follow. Shepard is _Shepard_.

John however is something completely different.

John walks into the room and Kaidan forgets. He forgets all the training imposed on him over his decade and a bit of service, and he forgets about the war burning across the midnight sky because when John walks into the room, it’s his impossibly blue eyes that claim Kaidan’s own. Everything else that follows is cloudy.

John simply is.

John whispers his thoughts into Kaidan’s ear as he struggles to keep in control beneath Kaidan’s wandering hands. John relinquishes control when he becomes his body, when Kaidan is the one who makes _him_ forget about his training and the war because the weight of the galaxy is a heavy burden to carry alone and Kaidan just—

Kaidan loves him. He loves him. Kaidan could pick apart the pieces of his heart and lay them out for John just to prove it. He could put his thoughts into mumbled words to tell John just how much the other man occupies his mind. It should be more complicated than it is but it’s not. He loves him.

That’s part of what Kaidan thinks as he enters John’s cabin that evening, Lessus another nightmare to add to the pile and the dim glow of the bustling aquarium a welcome relief to the tight feeling behind his eyes.

John looks up from his perch on the foot of his bed at Kaidan’s entrance, crooked smile on his lips and all pretences of filing his mission report easily forgotten. Kaidan returns the smile, not caring how stupid he must look, before he leans against the tank at the top of the stairs.

There’s a short silence between them, something comfortable and familiar, before John drops the data pad onto the bed and clasps his hands together, eyes expectant. Kaidan shakes his head. John’s smile grows.

“See something you don’t like, Major?”

Kaidan huffs and crosses his arms. “No, no. Just something I’m still having trouble believing, rather.”

The other man raises an eyebrow slightly; grin still perched on his face. “What could you possibly not believe,” he gestures a hand around himself, “about this?”

Kaidan can come up with a thousand different answers to that question. He can say that Alchera is proof of that claim, how Horizon almost stopped everything in its tracks, and Kaidan _can_ say that it’s impossible for someone’s eyes to be so _blue_. Romantic and all that.

John is an exception to that though, the only ideal impossibility in a galaxy where impossibility is nothing short of reality.

Instead he says, “Not that, exactly. This. Us. It’s hard to get a grasp on it sometimes, that’s all.”

The look in John’s eyes softens slightly, expression almost wistful. He pushes himself off the bed and approaches Kaidan slowly, eyes never leaving his.

“Even after all this time?” He says to Kaidan, voice low enough to send that shot of warmth down south. Kaidan shifts in his position slightly, thinks of a balcony overlooking the Presidium, and nods because his throat has decided to stop functioning at John's approach. 

God, his eyes are just in _sane_.

It takes a few seconds for John to reach him and they are long, torturous ones. Kaidan can feel his heart pound against his chest, the slight thrum of John’s biotics as they mingle with his own, and John watches him the entire time. The glow of the aquarium highlights his features, from the angle of his nose to the dip of scars along his jaw. Kaidan lets his arms drop to his sides, tries to convince himself that it’s the chill of the tank behind him that causes the bumps to surface along his skin.

John stops for a moment, their body’s inches from one another, before he brings his hands to cradle Kaidan’s jaw and steps closer. Their thighs brush and Kaidan presses himself flush against the glass wall behind him, wanting more of the touch but wanting to prolong the moment even more.

His eyes flutter shut at John’s soft chuckle, his warm breath ghosting across his cheek. John presses himself further into Kaidan, the hard lines of his body slotting easily with Kaidan’s own, and he can’t stop the soft sigh that comes from his lips as he brings his arms to snake around John’s waist, fingers locking to keep them from shaking.

A calloused thumb traces his cheek, to the side of his temple, back to his cheek to rest there softly. “Is this real enough, Kaidan?”

Kaidan leans further into John’s hands, and their foreheads touch. He opens his eyes to meet John’s impossible blue and time stands still. There is only the sound of their breathing, Kaidan’s heart against his chest, and John’s fingers against his skin.

With what thoughts his mind can still process during this time, Kaidan thinks briefly of the moments _before john_ , before they became what they are. There’s a flickering terminal in the mess, a sombre silence following Virmire, an anchor on his chest as the Normandy burns on Alchera, and an empty skyline on Horizon. 

_After Shepard_ is this _._ Only this.

“Yeah,” Kaidan whispers and his eyes open again to meet John’s, impossibly blue, “now it is.”

John breathes out as he closes the distance between them, stubble brushing his jaw, lips soft on his own, and then—

 _John_.


End file.
